


Tangent I

by wyntera



Series: Tangents [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, NSFW, Points on a Circle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 10:24:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10332521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyntera/pseuds/wyntera
Summary: As hard as it is to find beginnings and endings, it's certainly easy to find where the story goes off on a tangent. These are author approved side stories to go along with the McHanzo fic "Points on a Circle" by Hubris_and_Crafts.Tangent I: Chapter 17





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Points on a Circle](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7872577) by [AughtPunk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AughtPunk/pseuds/AughtPunk). 



> A continuation of Chapter 17 of Points on a Circle by Hubris_and_Crafts.

When they first stumbled into Jesse’s room they gave no thought to drawing the curtains. Now, hours later, the afternoon sun slants in warm and brilliant across the tangled sheets. Motes of dust float in the light, a lazy dance, drifting in the air overhead. Jesse watches with hooded eyes as it streams downward over Hanzo’s damp skin making it shine like spilt gold. 

Jesse is still slightly out of breath; he feels like he has been out of breath since the beach. Maybe for much longer than that, if he is feeling poetic. Hanzo can take his breath in all manner of ways, but this time by far more enjoyable means. After the last round, Jesse is a little concerned he might have pulled a muscle in his back. Or, that might have been in the shower before that, after they realized sex covered in sand was less than ideal. Hanzo may be smaller in stature but he is not a small man, and holding all that weight up with his forearms while doing his level best to satisfy his lover, all while braced on slippery tiles, might have led to the hitch he now feels in his lower back. A tiny twinge of pain that he is happy to ignore in favor of Hanzo’s mouth dragging hot across the curve of his pectoral. But, still, breathing would be nice.

“I ain’t as young as I used to be, sweetheart, you got to give me a minute,” Jesse says, drawing his prosthetic up to prop behind his head, making it easier to watch.

He gets a sly smile in return, Hanzo’s strong shoulders flexing as he shifts his weight to brace over Jesse’s body. “Tired, gunslinger?”

“After three rounds? Yes,” he chuckles honestly, reaching out with his other hand to drag fingers through dark hair. The other man arches into it, eyes slitted in pleasure. “You keep making that face and I’m sure I’ll catch up soon enough.”

“We will have to work on your stamina,” Hanzo teases.

“I like the sound of that.” He drags his nails all the way from Hanzo’s hairline to the base of his scalp, grinning at the way Hanzo’s mouth opens just slightly and he presses against the feeling. Something to remember for later. “This is the end of a mighty long dry spell, to be honest.”

Hanzo turns his head and presses a kiss to the base of Jesse’s palm. “Really?”

“Yeah. You ruined me for anyone else a long time ago.”

His eyes open, surprised. “But we were never together.” When Jesse just shrugs in response, Hanzo takes his hand and presses another kiss to his palm, stronger, surer. “I never allowed myself to think of it.”

“Of what?”

“What you were doing while we were apart. Or who.”

That is a lie, of course. Hanzo knows a thing or two about mental anguish. And wallowing in misery when he is drunk.

“Fella as pretty as you? I figured you forgot about me right quick, even if I couldn’t do the same,” Jesse replies. He drags his thumb down over Hanzo’s lower lip, feeling the softness of it, the ghost of a tongue over skin.

Hanzo makes an annoyed sound. “Nonsense.” One last kiss and he pushes Jesse’s hand up, a clear indication he should tuck it safely behind his head with his prosthetic. Jesse takes the hint and folds his arms behind him, stretching under Hanzo’s gaze. He goes back to drawing his fingers across the wide expanse of bare skin before him, leaning down to kiss at his chest. “What is this from?” Hanzo asks, lips against a puckered wound just right of his nipple.

“Bullet,” Jesse says. “Arlington, Texas. There was a fight between Deadlock and police, wrong place right time. I never figured out which side it was that shot me.”

Another soft kiss, loving attention, then Hanzo drags his fingers across the planes of Jesse’s chest to the other side and a long gash. This one cuts over two ribs and splits partway through, an uneven slice. “And this?”

“Broken bottle. Jackson, Wyoming. Got recognized at a bar, had to fight my way out.”

Jesse tries not to squirm as Hanzo drags his tongue along the groove, like he might lick his skin clean of his hurts. At the tapered end he kisses the smooth skin beyond, then begins exploring again, looking for more. He finds two little odd scars on Jesse’s soft stomach, about three inches apart, nearly identical. “What are these?”

“Taser. Albuquerque.”

Dark eyes shoot up from the scars to Jesse’s face, Hanzo unable to stop the wide smirk. “You were tased?”

“Hey, don’t laugh! Those things hurt!”

Hanzo laughs anyway, delighted with the thought, and kisses each mark in turn. “I can just imagine your face.”

“Never going back to Albuquerque,” he grumbles, shivering as Hanzo’s breath puffs against the starburst scars.

There must be a story there what with the way Jesse avoids an open explanation, and Hanzo makes a mental note to ask about it later. Not now. Not when he has the curve of Jesse’s love handle to explore, and there he finds a bruise. He does not remember Jesse being hurt recently. “What happened here?”

Jesse contracts around the middle to sit up just enough so he can see what Hanzo is talking about. “Oh,” he says, flopping back and grinning down at Hanzo. “That’d be you, sugar.”

“Ah,” Hanzo replies, seeing it now. He fits his hand along the spot, his thumb resting on the bruise. If he was inclined to make Jesse roll over, he would probably find four more. One for each fingertip. His concern fades to mischief. “My mistake.”

“Yeah, you sound real broken up about it,” Jesse drawls, voice a low rumble. “I’m kind of fond of those, actually. You like making your mark on me.”

Hanzo has the grace to blush, though he can hardly deny it, the evidence of his love so brazenly outlined in the tattoo down Jesse’s arm. As loathe as he is to admit it, he finds Soba’s new vibrant red scales adorning Jesse’s skin to be far more beautiful than the blue on his own. Jesse would surely say the opposite. They are allowed their biases.

He brings fingers up to graze the love bites littering his own neck and down his shoulders. “I am not the only one who enjoys making marks,” he says pointedly.

“Guilty,” Jesse agrees. His legs shift under the sheets, one calf wrapping more firmly around Hanzo’s knee and prosthetic. “Been thinkin’ about your shoulders for a long time, sugar.”

“Have you now,” Hanzo says, more statement than question. Amused. He folds his arms on Jesse’s chest and lays his head down on them, chin propped on his hands, their bodies pressed together all the way down. They are not aroused yet but Hanzo likes the turn of this conversation and where it might take them. “What else have you thought of?”

“You want specifics, you have to share, too.”

“That sounds fair.”

Jesse hums softly, thoughtfully. “Shall I start at the top?” he asks, smiling at the dark spill of hair falling down over one side of Hanzo’s face. Working a hand free he reaches down and pushes the long black strands back to tuck behind Hanzo’s ear, then messes it all up again with his fingers. “You got the softest hair I ever touched, you know? And so black. You don’t even know. Always had a thing for fellas with black hair.” He grins, fingers tickled as he runs them over the short shaved hair at the temples. “I do kind of miss the gray right here, though.”

“It made me look old,” Hanzo complains.

“Well, you are old--a joke! It’s a joke!” Jesse laughs, bucking slightly when Hanzo pinches him. He follows it up with a soothing pet, so Jesse does not complain too much. “I liked the gray, but I like this too. It suits you.”

“I am sure the gray will still be there when it grows back,” Hanzo sighs, holding still while Jesse’s touches move from his hair to his brows, down past the piercings to the angle of his nose, over his cheekbones.

“You never told me why you cut it. Need a new look?”

Hanzo wrinkles his nose and looks annoyed. “Something Genji mentioned. That I looked a bit like our father.”

“Ouch,” Jesse winces. “Sorry.”

“No, it is fine. I might have overreacted to it.”

“I’m sure you’re much hotter than your daddy.”

That gets him an undignified snort of surprised laughter. “Thank you.” He tilts his head a little to feel Jesse’s fingers at his temple. “You really liked it?” he asks, sounding suddenly shy.

“Sure did. Made you look distinguished.”

“I like this,” Hanzo says, spreading his fingers out along the stretch of Jesse’s chest and dragging his nails through the thick hair there. “I knew from your beard you would be covered in hair, but I had no idea.”

“You make me sound like Winston,” Jesse chuckles.

“Do  _ not  _ bring up Winston when we are in bed,” Hanzo warns. “All those times you would walk around with your shirt unbuttoned, teasing me with all this hair and muscle--”

“Excuse  _ you _ , and who keeps half their chest bare? Every time I look at you, you got a nipple showing.”

“That is for fluid motion in battle! It is a perfectly reasonable excuse!”

“Bullshit, you walk around like that all the time, you just like showin’ off.”

Hanzo just straight up bites Jesse for that, a soft dig of teeth into the curve over Jesse’s nipple. “I do not.”

“Do too,” Jesse grins. “I ain’t  _ complaining _ , just saying.”

“We were talking about you,” Hanzo says, trying to get the conversation back on track. He noses downward to Jesse’s stomach and the spread of hair there, dark near the center and fanning outward. “And how much hair there is. All the way down…” Hanzo can feel Jesse’s length stir where it presses against his chest now, his words and position doing things for the other man. They should still be down for the count from their earlier activities, but what can they say? There is a lot of time and missed opportunities to make up for. Jesse has a feeling part of it is tied up in the magic of the dragons, securing their bond or other such mystical spellwork. He really does not care about the specifics as long as at the end of the day Hanzo is left a quivering mess of satisfaction.

Jesse spreads his legs a little more as Hanzo lowers his mouth to lick along his stomach, headed toward his navel. It is not the first time Hanzo’s mouth has taken this route today, but this time is not near as frantic. “Hanzo,” Jesse breathes out, slow, luxurious. Like he likes the feel of the name on his tongue. “Where you going?”

“There is still much for me to see,” Hanzo says. He finds a lone freckle right below Jesse’s navel, an endearing little mark he has to kiss as well. “You were talking. Don’t let me stop you.”

“What was I talkin’ about?”

A flash of a grin. “What you thought of about me.”

“Oh, right.” Jesse closes his eyes and fights down a groan when Hanzo slips lower, biting the jut of a hip. Then lets it loose anyway when he starts to suckle a mark into the skin there. “Well, you doin’ this comes to mind,” he admits.

Hanzo’s mouth pauses and he pulls away, and it is enough to make Jesse whine at the loss. Looking down he is surprised to see Hanzo’s cheeks turning pink, a shocked look on his face. “You thought of this?”

“Yeah?” Jesse laughs, bemused. “Don’t tell me you didn’t.”

“Of course I--” He cuts himself off, realizing how high his voice creeped just then. And now he is turning red. “Of course I did, but I did not think we would...you know.”

“Talk about it?” Oh, Jesse is glad he brought it up now. “Ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed of. Like I said, you’ve been on my mind a long time.”

“When you…?”

“Mmhmm.” He nudges at Hanzo’s hip with his leg. “You?”

Hanzo is outright embarrassed, this is a real treat. The archer hides his glowing face in Jesse’s stomach. “Perhaps.”

Jesse hums. Interesting. “Used to think of something a lot like this,” he says, going back to petting through Hanzo’s hair in an attempt to set him at ease. They have nothing to hide from each other. Not anymore. “You crawlin’ over me, holding my hips down. Taking what you want. You were always so headstrong and confident, bossin’ me around. Couldn’t help wonderin’ if it carried over to the bedroom.”

Soft breath puffs against Jesse’s stomach, then Hanzo kicks the sheet off the bed entirely. The air of the room is already thick and warm with the scents of their lovemaking so losing it is hardly an issue. Crawling upward Hanzo straddles Jesse, knees on either side of his hips, and they both moan softly at the feel of all that warm skin pressed intimately together. Jesse’s hands move to settle on the curves of Hanzo’s thighs. “What else did you think of?” Hanzo asks, looking down at Jesse below him with a face still flushed, bracing his hands in the center of his chest. “Tell me more.”

“You over me,” Jesse replies without hesitation, petting his hands up and down those gorgeous thighs, up to his hips. “Fingering yourself while I watched. Letting me open you up. Using my tongue to get you ready.” Hanzo bites his lip, eyes going wide, and Jesse feels more than sees the way Hanzo’s cock pulses at the thought. “Oh?” he asks. “You like that?”

“It is filthy,” Hanzo says, rocking down against Jesse’s hardness between his legs.

“That’s not a no.”

Hanzo looks away, smiling through his own embarrassment. “No one has ever…”

“Oh, darlin’,” Jesse growls happily, delighted, tugging Hanzo down for a filthy little kiss of his own. “I can change that for you, if you like,” he whispers against Hanzo’s lips.

The other man can only shiver and nod. Jesse is gentle with him, rolling them both over so he is on top. “I--I do not know if I can watch you while you do this,” Hanzo admits, pushing his face into Jesse’s shoulder.

“That’s fine,” Jesse assures, pressing kisses along his cheek, once to his lips. “Turn over for me, let me take care of you.”

Hanzo lets himself be adjusted until he lays on his stomach, arms clenched around the pillow under his head and muscles jumping with nerves. There is no one he would ever consider letting do this other than Jesse, but that does not mean he is at ease with the thought. Then Jesse’s big, warm body is blanketing his and he closes his eyes, pressing back into the smooth heat of him. “I have thought of this,” he admits into the warm air of the room. Easier now that he cannot see Jesse’s face. “You behind me, pressed up--ah--”

“Like that?” Jesse asks, slotting their lower halves together and grinding, just a little, his hardness pressing into the sensitive area just behind Hanzo’s balls. A suggestion of what is to come. It makes Hanzo moan with need. Jesse does not wait for any more answer than that, pressing open-mouthed kisses down the nobs of Hanzo’s spine at a leisurely pace. His hands ease Hanzo’s thighs further apart, though the archer seems reluctant. Soft murmurs are whispered into the small of his back, “Relax, darlin’, it’s just a little tongue.”

“It is  _ not  _ just a little tongue,” he argues. “And I would like to see you stay calm if I were to-- _ Jesse! _ ”

While he is complaining Jesse spreads him open and licks once, a slow lap over his hole. The muscles under his hands go rigid in shock. “If you feel like doin’ the same to me I won’t be against it,” he says, kissing one of Hanzo’s cheeks and giving the other a playful squeeze. “However you want to do things, I can be the rider or the stallion. I’m flexible like that.” When he gets no answer, Jesse worries he went too far too fast. “Hanzo? You need me to stop?”

Hanzo makes a quiet noise. “Do not stop,” he whispers, pushing his face into the pillow. Then he keens softly as Jesse swipes at his hole again, then again, over and over, hot and wet and so very, very good. As soon as it becomes clear Hanzo likes it Jesse holds nothing back, working him loose with every little wriggle and stroke. His beard scrapes against the delicate skin of Hanzo’s inner thighs and along his balls, a prickle a shock compared to the slick warmth of his tongue.

“You taste so good,” Jesse murmurs between licks, “so smooth, so pretty.” He flicks his tongue along the rim and Hanzo’s thighs shake. “All pink and pretty for me. Fuck, Hanzo, so beautiful.”

Hanzo just moans in response, unable to think of any words that might form a coherent thought when all his concentration is on not eagerly pushing back into Jesse’s face. He may not be well-versed in this particular sex act but he is sure that would be rude. In the end he tries to rock back on Jesse’s tongue anyway, the hands cupping the tops of his thighs keeping him steady and still. “Jesse,” he grits out, fingers white-knuckled in the pillow. “More.”

He only has to wait a moment before he is muffling a shout of pleasure into the pillow as Jesse’s tongue breaches him. His hole is still lubricated from their earlier activities so Hanzo expects the sensation to be dampened, but that is not the case at all. Jesse is warm and wet and unrelenting, and from the way his moans vibrate along Hanzo’s skin he is obviously enjoying himself. Jesse fucks his tongue in with short little jabs, staccato strikes that has Hanzo reeling. It feels like it goes on forever and he never wants it to end.

When Jesse pulls away for air, Hanzo’s back goes loose; he had not realized he was holding it tight as a bow string until then. Broad hands pet up and down his back which is already growing damp again with sweat. “You with me, babe?” McCree asks, reaching up for the bottle of lubricant on the bedside table.

Hanzo nods, pushing up onto his elbows, panting softly. “Hurry up.”

“I ain’t goin’ to hurt you,” Jesse states, slicking up two fingers right away and trailing them down to circle Hanzo’s entrance.

“I am already stre- _ eeeetched _ ,” he groans, arching his hips up to meet the slow push inside. 

Jesse grins and leans down to kiss the curve of his ass. “Then it shouldn’t take too long,” he counters. On his knees he sits back and watches the slick slide of his fingers as they move in and out of his lover for long minutes. His metal hand comes up to cup Hanzo’s balls, oh so carefully massaging them with cool steel. Flesh fingers twist inside and Hanzo grunts, breath stuttering out of him as Jesse glances hard over his prostate.

One of Hanzo’s hands shoves under himself to squeeze the base of his cock. “Stop,” he orders sharply. “Stop, I cannot--it is too much.”

Jesse pulls his fingers free and squeezes Hanzo’s sides. “You’re alright.”

Hanzo looks over his shoulder, hair sticking to his forehead and the back of his neck. “Fuck me. Now.”

“Yes, sir,” Jesse grins. A quick coat of lube and a few strokes over himself to spread it, he draws Hanzo up onto his hands and knees and tucks up against Hanzo’s back again. “Like this?” he asks, kissing the scales on his shoulder. Hanzo can feel the electric charge along his skin at the feel of Jesse’s lips there.

“Just like this,” Hanzo whispers, twisting to mouth at Jesse’s neck, the sharp cut of his jaw. “You’re so big over me, in me, now, now, please…” He trails off to hold a breath as Jesse’s cock pushes in, a slow wet drag stretching him wide.

Jesse slides a hand to Hanzo’s stomach, pulling him so his back is tight against Jesse’s front. “Breathe,” he groans into Hanzo’s hair. “Relax, love, breathe for me.”

It comes out as a long groan, Hanzo’s eyes squeezed shut and forehead pressed to Jesse’s jaw. And another, louder one when Jesse rocks out then in again, all the way this time, up to the hilt. Jesse rests there, letting Hanzo adjust to the girth of him. Part of Hanzo hopes he always needs a few moments, because even though it keeps progress slow, those long seconds feel absolutely glorious. He is so focused on the stretch and convincing his own muscles to relax, he nearly misses the way Jesse’s chest heaves against his back or the tight cords of muscle in the arms around him.

“Jesse?” he pants, tilting his head up just enough to see the other man’s silhouette, a slight frown to his face and jaw clenched in concentration.

“You’re so damn tight,” Jesse groans, strained, turning into a helpless laugh. “You might’a been right about my stamina.”

Hanzo laughs too, breathless, kissing Jesse’s throat. “I am ready when you are, cowboy.”

“Oh, God, don’t say that, you’re pushin’ all my buttons,” Jesse mutters, rolling his hips slow and gentle.

It takes no time at all for them to find a rhythm they both like, easy, no rush, savoring every push and pull and sensation that they have craved for so long. Hanzo tips his head back, neck boneless as he rests against Jesse’s shoulder, eyes narrowed in pleasure. Jesse’s hair flops down to mingle with Hanzo’s own, tickling the side of his face along with the scrape of his beard. “So good,” he gasps. “So good in me. You feel so good.”

“You like that?” Jesse palms at his stomach, uses the intimate touch to move Hanzo back on his cock, again and again. He leans back so there is just enough space to look down between their bodies and watch where he disappears inside. “Fuck, Hanzo, you take me so well. Don’t want me to leave, do you? Want me to stay buried right here.”

Hanzo bounces back harder at that. He has never been one for dirty talk, but it has never before came in the form of a southern drawl pouring smooth as molasses into the thick air between them. Jesse’s prosthetic fingers squeezing hard on one cheek, spreading him wider, make him gasp for more. “Harder,” he demands.

“Harder?”

“Deeper. Now.” He hits the bed with his elbows, then chest to the sheets as Jesse shoves him over. His warm body blankets Hanzo again, pressing him down from knees to shoulders, and he drives in hard. It has Hanzo seeing stars as the angle hits him just right. “Yes,” he moans, loud in his own ears. “Yes, yes, there, Jesse, there!”

“God, Hanzo,” Jesse groans, locking in on that spot and pounding fast. His flesh arm wraps around Hanzo’s chest to draw him in tight again and he mouths at the skin at the back of his neck. It takes Hanzo a minute to recognize the lips forming words, and then another to understand them over the audible slap of skin on skin. “Yours,” Jesse whispers, hot in his ear. “Yours, Hanzo, was always yours, always.”

“Jesse!” Hanzo sobs out, the sweet confession bringing him to the brink in a heartbeat. Three times already today, you would think they could last. But Jesse moaning Hanzo’s name in his ear does him in. With a cry, Hanzo spills untouched onto the bed beneath him, gripping Jesse’s forearm like he may float off without the anchor.

It must take Jesse by surprise, because his voice goes abruptly high and strangled, then he grunts and presses Hanzo into the sheets. Hanzo can feel the deep twitches as Jesse comes inside along with the hard gasps as his orgasm wracks his body. Then he does not feel much of anything but euphoria until Jesse carefully withdraws with a soft hiss, turning him over out of the damp spot in the sheets

Hanzo is vaguely aware of Jesse leaving the bed and returning some time later, then his gentle ministrations as he cleans Hanzo of sweat and fluids. Being taken care of is nice, he thinks idly, trying not to squirm away when Jesse cleans between his thighs. When he finally forces his eyes open Jesse is leaning over him with a dopey smile on his face. “Hey, sweetheart,” he murmurs, petting his hair. “You back with me?”

“Never left,” he insists, drowsy but regaining strength. Reaching up Hanzo pets over Jesse’s beard and draws him down into a kiss. He absently notes that Jesse brushed his teeth while he drifted. How thoughtful. “Now I think I need a break.”

Jesse laughs, reclining back against the pillows next to Hanzo. As soon as he settles Hanzo twists and curls around so he can wrap his arms around his middle. “Tired, archer?”

“Mmm,” he hums, smiling happily. His fingers pet over Jesse’s thigh, not surprised to find curly hair here as well. “You know, what you said earlier?”

“Hmm?”

Hanzo presses his hand to Jesse’s hip, the bruises still there. “I am yours, too.”

“Good to hear,” Jesse rumbles, pleased. He curls down to press a kiss to Hanzo’s bicep where Udon’s image curls around his arm before sitting back up. The crackle of lightning along the tattoo is dampened now, sated, much like Hanzo himself. “You know, I forgot to ask, but how is it that you summon Udon in that cute little form of his? You know, not big killer-dragon but little happy-dragon?”

“He comes and goes as he pleases, unless I will him to stay inside,” Hanzo says, closing his eyes to sense where Udon might be now. “I think he is under the bed with Soba messing with something.”

“He’s what?!” Hanzo suddenly has his thigh-pillow jerked out from underneath his cheek as Jesse rolls to the edge of the bed and tips over to look underneath. It presents a delightful visual for Hanzo to contemplate.

Sure enough, under the bed Jesse can see a blue and a red dragon wrapped up in what looks like one of Jesse’s old serapes, the gray one that he could never get the blood stains completely out of no matter how much he washed it. Soba is chewing on an empty silver flask with the words  _ Shit Creek Survivor  _ embossed on the side. When they see Jesse their little heads perk up, but otherwise they stay put. Jesse rears back and looks at Hanzo with panic. “Were they under there the whole time?!”

“Probably,” Hanzo says, smirking at his partner.

“They heard us!” Jesse squeaks, and then inexplicably yanks the sheet up over he and Hanzo as if to protect their virtue.

“Jesse,” he laughs, leaning up on an elbow. “It is fine.”

“It’s not fine! That’s just creepy!” He pulls the sheet clean up to his chest. “Like havin’ sex in front of your dog or something!”

Hanzo has to bite his lip to stop from laughing, then tries again. “The dragons have been with me since I was very young. And they are always with me.”

“So?”

“So,” Hanzo says pointedly, “that includes puberty, with everything that entails, and dating, and every other lover I have taken.”

Jesse blinks at him owlishly for a moment. Then again. “Oh.” Then,  _ “Oh. _ ”

“Yes.”

“So they’re always?”

“Yes.”

“And when you do they just…?”

“Find something else to amuse themselves.”

“...Oh.” He lowers the sheet to his lap, though he does not look happy about it. “It’s still weird.”

“You get used to it,” Hanzo assures, opening his arms invitingly. Taking the comfort when offered, Jesse scoots down until he can snuggle up in Hanzo’s space, wrapping his own arms around Hanzo’s waist. “I assure you as long as we are happy and together, they have no interest in what goes on in our bedroom.”

“Our bedroom,” Jesse repeats, because it bears repeating. He grins when Hanzo looks away, realizing his slip. “We’ve got time to work that out.”

Hanzo smiles, kissing Jesse’s hairline. “Yes. Plenty of time.” He runs his hand over Jesse’s head, over his hair and down to his jaw, tilting his face up for another soft, intimate press of lips. Hanzo plans on there being an awful lot more kissing in their future. Then his smile returns even wider. “What was that you said about being flexible? ‘The rider or the stallion?’”

“You are insatiable!” Jesse laughs before Hanzo takes his mouth again, rolling them over, and they abandon talk for something far more enjoyable.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like that and want more, want to check out my art, or just want to chat, come on by my tumblr! You can find me under username wyntera. And if twitter is more your game, come and join me there, just look for @ThreeCatDesigns.
> 
> And hey. Thanks.


End file.
